


Born With Sea In Their Eyes

by mrs-storm-andrews (no_fucking_idea_for_a_name)



Series: Children Of The Crimson Sea (A Theonsa Series) [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, Theonsa - Freeform, Yara's POV, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_fucking_idea_for_a_name/pseuds/mrs-storm-andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was off. Yara could sense it. First of all, Balon fucking Greyjoy was not a man simply falling off a bridge. He got murdered. Everybody knew it. And now, as if to crown it all, that creature that once had been her brother was about to arrive at Pyke - with the last living child of House Stark in tow. Something was definitely off.</p><p>Part of an AU-series, in which Theon and Sansa went to the Iron Islands after escaping from Winterfell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born With Sea In Their Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story can be read as a separate work, I highly recommend to read the works of this series in given order, since they might refer to earlier works.

The Ironborn are forged by the sea, they said. Their minds as free as the harsh winds impelling their ships. Their force as relentless as the tides crashing at shores, taking what is meant to be theirs. Their temper as unpredictable as currents beneath the water surface. It could keep you sailing until the world's end, it could lead you to where you belong. But it could also make you struggle and it could pull you down to the ocean ground. Always on the verge of madness and sometimes far beyond. Her uncle, they said, had lost his mind at sea. Her brother, she knew, had lost his mind in the kennels.

Legend has it that the colour of an Ironborn's eye matches the state of the sea at the very moment they were born. Yara didn't care too much for legends. To her, legends were only a more epic version of fairy tales and these again belonged in a child's world, not in the world of a woman being determined to lead a land of reavers. Still, the legend that all Ironmen were born with sea in their eyes had always fascinated Yara. The young boy standing uneasily in front of her now must have been born on the morning after an autumn storm. When the first light is touching the lingering mist to colour it in all different shades of bright, but icy grey.  
"Gero Blykeshaw sent you?", Yara asked in surprise. He was the captain of one of the best ships in the Iron Fleet. They had known each other for years, had been reaving and fighting side by side. He had even seen her losing her little brother at the Dreadfort. But he had never sent a rugged fisher boy to her after returning from a raid. It used to be some kind of tradition for them to enjoy a fine pint of ale and a bowl of fish stew in each other's company at Castle Pyke while discussing his report. "Aye, Lady Greyjoy," the boy stammered, while shifting from one foot to another, "Captain Blykeshaw told me to hurry to the castle as fast as I could to deliver this letter." The boy, he couldn't be older than 12, handed a small, folded piece of paper over to her. There was no seal on it, but she recognised Gero's handwriting. Her name was scribbled messily on the outside, seemingly in a hurry. Yara nodded to the guard standing nearby. "Accompany him to the kitchen. He shall take whatever he can carry back to the village." And looking back at the boy she said: "Have a feast on me, lad!"  
Eventually, she unfolded the letter and read the words carefully. It took her a few times to truly understand them. _**The Dreadfort set him free. The Wolf's last lass is with him.**_ Exhaling sharply, Yara planked down into her father's chair.

Something was off. Yara could sense it. First of all, Balon fucking Greyjoy was not a man simply falling off a bridge. He had known every inch of Pyke. He had been at one with Pyke and Pyke with him. No, Balon Greyjoy could by no means have been falling off that bridge. He got murdered. She knew it. Everybody knew it. Something was definitely not right here. And now, as if to crown it all, that creature that once had been her brother was about to arrive at Pyke - with the last living child of House Stark in tow.   
For a second she was thinking that Theon might had been somehow involved in their father's inglorious fall. But she had seen him in the kennels. He had called himself Reek. His appearance had matched this name. Her once so dapper brother. She remembered the bewildered look on his dirty, sunken face. But what was still haunting her in her nightmares were his eyes. She always had thought that her little brother's eyes looked like the sea at a small strip of beach between the high cliffs of Pyke. As a child she had loved to play there and to watch the sun breaking through the water, illuminating thin strands of seaweed and small rocks right beneath the surface. Theon's eyes had just looked the same. As blue as the water, with strands of green seaweed and sparks of grey stone. But at the Dreadfort she hasn't been able to find the sea in his eyes. Dull they had been. Nothing but dull and as empty as the shell that was left of Theon Greyjoy. An Ironborn without sea in his eyes was no Ironborn any longer, he could just as well be dead.    
Mostly, she felt so painfully sorry for Theon's fate. She avoided thinking about him. She avoided talking about him. But occasionally a stormy kind of anger overwhelmed her. She had told him! She had told him to come with her, to not die alone, to not die so far from the sea. But this was exactly what he had done. He had stayed in Wintelfell and he had ended dying all alone. Theon had been just as stubborn and just as proud as their goddamn father. Yara could feel the anger rising within her chest, grasping at her heart and her mind tightly. He had betrayed her by choosing to die all alone instead of coming with her. And now he was back, probably thinking that she would welcome him with open arms? Hell, no! He had made up his mind back at Winterfell and once again at the Dreadfort. He had rather wanted to die as a shadow of himself than to trust her.  
But why was he coming to Pyke now? Did that piece of shit send him just as he had sent him to Moat Cailin? Nobody knew exactly, what had happened at Moat Cailin, but rumours were to be heard all over the islands. Most Ironborn considered them to be Greenlanders' slander, but she knew they were true. She felt it. And suddenly she understood. That Bolton bastard had sent her brother to take the Salt Throne, now that their father was dead. But what was the point of sending the Stark along?  
Yara was still digesting Ramsay's tack, when she heard the door being pushed open hesitantly. The sound of dragging footsteps made her tense. "He told me you were home, but I didn't believe it," she said hard-voiced…

Later that evening, Yara was sitting at the dining table, watching her brother and his guest silently.  
"Thank you for these excellent dishes, Lady Yara," the Greenlander girl said formally, "I haven't had such a delicious meal in months." Yara could tell that she wasn't lying about that point by the completely emptied plate in front of her. Theon, on the other hand, hadn't even touched his fork. He was just looking down at the piece of salmon. "Spare me your courtesy, Stark," Yara said more harshly than intended. "Sansa," Theon was suddenly holding her gaze firmly. "Her name is Sansa. Sansa Stark of Winterfell." "All right then," Yara replied in defence, "so tell me, _Sansa_ , what made you accompany my brother to our godforsaken islands? You got fed up with the North? Has winter finally arrived there?"   
She could see her brother's face harden. _Theon._ For a split-second she could recognise Theon in that sunken face. And she also noticed something else. Sansa had rested her arm on the table close to Theon's. Too close. Their elbows were touching, almost unnoticeable.  
Before Yara could think about it any further, Sansa spoke up. "I heard about the upcoming Kingsmoot. You're about to become the ruler of your _godforsaken islands_ , as you call it. Why is that? According to everything I've heard about you, you're not interested in power solely for power's sake. You want to make your family's name valuable again. Things have gone straightly downhill since the rebellion. You want to change the Iron Islands for the better. Isn't that what you want? We might read different books, but we are on the same page. Ever since the war begun, my family has been falling apart piece after piece. Our name is not much more than a whisper on the quiet. Our castle has been taken away from us. The North has been taken away from us. But I will get back what is ours. A Stark will rule again at Winterfell."  
There was definitely more to this girl than meets the eye, Yara thought. Still, this could be a trap, set up by that Bolton bastard. She was just about to give a snappy reply on Sansa's speech, when her eyes met Theon's. As blue as the water, with strands of green seaweed and sparks of grey stone. Firm and clear. Yara lifted her pint to her lips, making up her mind in silence. "Well, I might be able to spare a couple of ships, I guess," she said eventually, passing Sansa a smirk, before downing her ale in one gulp.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope, Yara is not completely OOC.  
> \--------------------  
> While thinking about a name for the captain, a classmate from elementary school suddenly popped into my mind. He went by the name of Gero. I thought that could make a good ironborn name. So, thank you, Gero, for lending your name to the captain.  
> \--------------------  
> By the way, maybe one of the next parts will be written from Gero's POV. I kinda grew fond of him.


End file.
